


Shadows in the Dark

by MaevenHall



Series: Somewhere in Between [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Seekers of Truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23353246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaevenHall/pseuds/MaevenHall
Summary: The Inquisition is breaking up slowly. It feels like everyone has moved on except Cassandra, but it's time. She's been devoting all her time lately to rebuilding the Seekers, and Eliana Lavellan has a plan that will work for everyone, including the Inquisition.The Inquisitor has donated land and a building to house the new Seekers in Haven. Will they have time to rebuild before Solas finds a new way to open the veil?DA is not in any way my property and belongs only to the original copyright holders. For entertainment only.Having computer issues in 2020 and updating as quickly as possible.
Relationships: Cassandra P/ original character
Series: Somewhere in Between [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1426159
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter one: Haven

“I think you’d best take the offer, Cassandra.” Dorian laughed as Eliana Lavellan frowned fiercely at the Seeker still covered with dirt from the road.  
“Cassandra, we have limited space. I commissioned the work on Haven some time ago. I just didn’t tell you what I wanted to do with the building.”  
Cullen turned away from the fire burning brightly in the massive fireplace as Cassandra stood staring at them all in wonderment. “You should,” he said. “Haven was too vulnerable to Corypheus. A force of soldiers there could be just the thing to ward off enemies of the Inquisition.”  
“You don’t think this gives the wrong impression about your use of resources?”  
“Of course not!” Eliana swiped the statement away as preposterous. “You need a place to begin. We need Haven protected. It’s not a gift.”  
Cassandra felt that the argument hit home. It was an ideal situation for them all. “We would be free to serve our own charter?”  
Eliana shot her the dragon look, the one they all earned once in a while. “Sweet Andraste, Cassandra, as long as you aren’t summoning demons or tearing down the veil, I’ll count myself lucky.”  
“Hilarious,” Cassandra said. “I will try to avoid breaking the world.”  
“So, you’ll take it?”  
She thought about it a moment, then gave a firm nod to the Inquisitor. “I’ll take my men down tomorrow and look the place over.”  
“Have you chosen a second yet?” This from Cullen who knew the dilemma, or believed he did, that Cassandra was having.  
She tapped a hand against her thigh in thought for a bit. ”I need to wash off the journey.”  
They all agreed, and Cullen went back to studying the fire. Turning on her heel, Cassandra left quickly. The ramparts of Skyhold stood towering above her, timeless and sturdy as if nothing could ever knock them down, but Cassandra saw the illusion in it. Everything could be destroyed with time and effort.  
Perhaps that was why she was such an idealist. Perhaps she needed intangible things to hold onto in a world that changed constantly. She shook her head as the evening light dipped low over the great stone walls. When had she become so retrospective? She smiled at herself.  
She strode down the steps and toward the Armory, skirting the edges of the now-empty training ring. The sounds of the keep seemed muted and distant tonight. Cassandra paused a moment beneath her favorite tree.  
The branches waved slowly in a slow breeze as if welcoming her back to the fold. Skyhold had that feeling after a long journey, as though it stood merely waiting for your return like a mother who has sent her children out into the world. Cassandra often felt that kind of touch on her life, the Maker’s hand, according to Divine Justinia.  
Still, Cassandra had never felt this connection to a place before. If anywhere in the wide world was truly home to her, it was Skyhold. Some part of her would always feel that as long as Skyhold stood she had a home to go to. Certainly, Navarra had never called her back this way.  
“Seeker,” a voice said from the Armory. “Seeker Pentaghast?”  
“Yes,” she said. It was, of course, the one man she didn’t exactly want to see. “Seeker Landover, how have things gone in my absence?”  
He gave a humble shrug. “Logistics have been challenging certainly. Cullen’s helped a great deal.”  
“It seems that this will change for us tomorrow.”  
Landover had come to the Seekers of Truth through Cullen, as many of her newest recruits had. She hadn’t addressed the issue of his vigil with him. Frankly, she wasn’t sure the vigils were necessary anymore. Other than the power found at the opposite end, it was a frightening prospect, becoming tranquil, now that each seeker knew what they were signing up for.  
Her companion said little usually. He stayed true to his character now and merely waited. “Tell the men to prepare for a journey to Haven tomorrow. Some of them will be staying in Haven. We are being given a task.”  
He smiled softly into the dark night. “I wondered. Cullen would say nothing of the construction. It seems we begin in earnest.”  
“So it does,” she agreed. “You’ve seen the building? Can it accommodate all of us?”  
He nodded. “And many more. The ten of us will have no difficulty.”  
“Eleven,” she told him. “I found another of us in the Dales.”  
“Milady, may I speak plainly?”  
“You haven’t been?” Cassandra teased him to see if anything ruffled this seeker. She hadn’t yet. He remained at all times calm and placid as a lake on a fine day. Nothing seemed to move him to passion.  
“You cannot keep pushing yourself with this constant searching, Seeker. You’re exhausted, you are away from your trainees more than you are with them.”  
“I see that I was mistaken. You have not been speaking plainly. You feel I am derelict in my duties then?” Hurt bloomed in her chest. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t just been thinking the same.  
“That is not how I intended that, lady. It was… I am concerned about your well being. You keep a punishing pace; searching, training, study, and research. You alone aren’t responsible for everything. There are eleven of us, Seeker Pentaghast. Why will you not share your burdens?”  
She turned toward the former Templar who would become a seeker. “I suppose it is the habit of years. As the Divine’s right hand, I acted alone much of the time. It is only since joining the Inquisition that I have learned to rely on others.”  
Landover gave that smile once again, the one that seemed utterly still. “It would seem, milady, that you are in need of practice.”  
She faced him fully. “Would it surprise you to learn that I agree?”  
“No,” he answered. “You are a woman of good sense. It is something I admire about you greatly.”  
Those words flustered her. Compliments were not something she was overly familiar with, nor social graces. Most found her abrasive and far too passionate. It was her curse.  
“You… admire…. Well, now, I’m at a profound loss.” He laughed and she found the sound far too pleasant. His laugh reminded her of Antony, her brother with the easy smile and jovial chuckle. Where Antony inspired instant friendship, this man before her inspired calm, stability. Cullen was right. He was perfect for command.  
“As a woman of good sense, I suppose I should inform you of my decision to give you command. You have been acting as my second. It is time we recognize this. You have filled the role of a Senior Seeker for long enough without the rank.”  
“Lady Seeker, I ….”  
She interrupted. “I have not taken that title.”  
Dark eyes studied her in the moonlight. “Are you not a woman of good sense?”  
“That was dangerously insubordinate.”  
“How long will you pretend that you are not leading us?”  
She sighed heavily and looked up into the stars as if they held the answer. “I suppose I’ve become comfortable in my role with the Inquisition. It will be difficult to leave them.”  
He nodded. “But you must. I do understand, Lady Cassandra.”  
His voice slid over her jangled nerves, soothing her as he explained.  
“You worry. I have seen it. However, your friends are more than capable and they won’t be far, will they?” She nodded slowly still staring at the stars, wondering again what they were and why they existed. That was her lot. She was curious in some ways, an unusual trait in one of the faithful. Wanting to understand the Maker’s creation didn’t cause her to doubt the Maker as it would some of her kind, devout followers.  
And she would like to understand the stars. The stars didn’t frighten her at all. The Fade, however, was another proposition. She never wanted a repeat trip into that world. She still had nightmares about it, an irony she knew, since they’d had to defeat a nightmare demon to escape.  
Perhaps, Landover sensed her dark thoughts intruding because he stopped gazing at the sky to look at her. Cassandra turned to him, sensing more than noticing his gaze on her.  
“You’re exhausted. How many days have you traveled without rest, Lady?”  
“I rested… a bit,” she said in her own defense. “You are becoming very much like the Inquisitor, a mother hen.” He laughed again, the sound sinking into her soul. It was the kind of laugh that invited others to join in, to be happy. “That was not a compliment,” she groused at him.  
He rubbed a hand over his brow and shook his head at her slowly. “I’ll have a servant organize a bath for you, Lady Cassandra. Then, I can relay your orders to the rest of the men.”  
She inclined her head in an acknowledgment and then watched him walk away. A mountain of a man, he walked with a confidence beyond his years. She believed him to be somewhat younger than herself. Broad shoulders held stiff with military precision, he made for the keep to rouse a servant. It was thoughtful, she thought. Very thoughtful.  
She made for her loft above the Armory without further delay. The stair railing hard under her hand as she tiredly climbed two flights of stairs. Sitting on her cot, she wrestled with her left boot as she thought about tomorrow and what it would bring. It was moving day, she realized looking around the spare loft that had been her home for some time.  
This was her last night as a part of the Inquisition. It was hardly the first time in her life she’d left behind one cause for another, she thought with some self-derision. Why was she so emotional this time? She’d rebelled against the Chantry and the Seekers before ending up with the Inquisition.  
The door below slammed shut as the servants brought the warm water for her bath. Wash, eat, sleep; then see what the next day holds. That was her routine. She would embrace that and hopefully be ready for what came with the dawn.


	2. Chapter Two: A woman's wiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dorian gives Cassandra her most unpleasant mission to date.

Cassandra let the horse plod along before the other seekers as they neared the path taking them to Haven. It brought back memories, as always, of that night long ago, of leading the sobbing, frightened citizens of Haven down the path of pilgrimage. The snow had begun early that day. It had been cold but bright as they tried to keep the children quiet in the night. All the while, she’d felt the burden of knowing she’d likely left a friend to die.  
The torment of it. She’d had orders. El had been very clear. The moment it went bad, the second they suspected there was no escape for her, they were to go and not look back. Their orders were to safeguard her people. Even back then, the Inquisitor saw them all as her people. It had been the moment she’d decided to talk to the others about their leadership, but they’d not been able to do that until after that terrible night.  
The sounds of nature were returning to Thedas where the presence of demons and rifts had forced the animals to run or killed them altogether. At one point in the worst of it, one could ride for miles near a Fade rift and never hear birdsong. She’d missed the birds most of all, but here they were, singing again. It gave her hope as they approached the small village that was being rebuilt one board at a time. The Chantry stood proud and sturdy in the early light. Gray, stacked stone gave it a modest appearance just as it always did. Cassandra drank that in a moment.  
Once, the Chantry had been her shelter. It had been where she went in storms, safe harbor. She didn’t sing the chant much these days. It wasn’t a lack of faith in the Maker. Perhaps, she wasn’t sure she deserved the Maker’s attention these days. Had she done everything she should?  
Marcus suddenly overtook her on his own horse. “We’re beyond the Chantry, Lady Seeker.”  
She cut a sharp glance his way. “I wish you wouldn’t insist on calling me that, Seeker Landover. At least until we have a formal means to decide on leadership.”  
He placed a hand on the saddle and shifted his position, adjusting the reins in front of him. Clearing his throat, he said, “It’s just there. Follow the path around the stables.”  
She did, and the Seekers' new home came into sight as morning dew still glittered on the thatch. It was much like the Chantry but low slung, rustic, and spacious. There was only one floor which she approved. The practical, unassuming facade was just as she would have wished. For she wished the Seekers of Truth this time to be humble servants, not simply police or spies as in years past. They would oversee Templars if Templars there were to be, but Cassandra felt the need to make the Seekers more.  
She dismounted and stared up at the eaves where someone had etched a phrase into the wood. “To seek truth is half the war.” Leave it to Eliana to know everyone around her better than they knew themselves. It was part of her genius at command, and it was a quality that Cassandra lacked.  
“Go inside, milady. I’ll see to the mounts.”  
She thanked him and went inside.  
Much like Haven’s Chantry, this building opened up onto a large hall edged with candles and archways along the walls. The primary difference was that this hall was set up as a place of learning. Cassandra smiled. Chairs and desks and books lined every available space, but none of the furniture was heavy so it could be moved for gatherings. Practical, she thought. Tables for dining lined the walls behind the archways. She could see a fire and a door beyond that with a servant carrying cabbages to what she presumed was a kitchen. She drank in the hall.  
“It’s quite nice, isn’t it?”  
The voice belonged to Dorian Pavus, the Inquisiton’s … Cassandra didn’t actually know what Dorian was these days, only that he hadn’t returned to Tevinter after escaping the occupation. It wasn’t in his character to just give up on his beloved homeland, but something had happened she believed.  
Cassandra ran a hand along a bookshelf. How much had the Inquisition spent on the Seekers?  
“It’s beautiful.” Her voice rang with reverence.  
Dorian appeared surprised. “That’s not a description that I’d expect from you, Seeker. I’ve been here for a few days. It is excessively comfortable considering its purpose is train warriors.”  
“Its purpose is to protect Thedas,” she insisted. “And mages. We must not let things come to rebellion this time. We must provide justice for everyone, including mages.”  
Dorian inclined his head acknowledging her point. “I believe if anyone can pull it off, it would be you, Seeker. Shall I give you the tour?”  
She studied him closely. “Did you have something to do with this, Dorian?”  
“El conceived the notion and built the place. I was sent to get it ready for you. You know supervision is one of my best qualities.”  
She snorted. “That’s not a quality. It’s a skill. It appears you are very skilled. Thank you.”  
“Wonder of wonders. I’m pleased to have been of service to Thedas.”  
Cassandra shook her head. “Now you are mocking me.”  
“Not much,” he said with feeling. “In truth, I’ve needed the break from Skyhold. It’s become somewhat domestic of late.” The words were light-hearted and jovial, but his expression when she turned to see was sad.  
“Dorian, what happened to you?”  
He shook his hand at her and returned to the typical mask he wore, a careless showman waiting for applause. “Nothing of great importance at all. We should probably get your tour finished before dinner. Anna, your cook, is a stickler for punctuality. Maker protect any of your charges who do not appear precisely at dinnertime. She’s horribly fierce.”  
“Sounds perfect,” Cassandra returned. “All right, show me.” She gestured for him to go before her.  
He took her to a large door at the back of the hall. “This is your war room.” Inside, he was indeed correct. It was basically identical to the one they’d had in the Chantry during the early days of the Inquisition. He turned down the hallway to the right then left. This led to sleeping quarters. Two large dormitory rooms with stacked cots for the single soldiers and the trainees. At the end of that hall were several well-appointed chambers with the basics and larger beds for officers, she assumed. Command had to have some privileges, she thought.  
Dorian took her to the very last door in the hallway and opened it. “I’ve given our Lady Seeker the largest room with the best fire.” He waved a hand in a showy way at the fire burning away making her smile.  
“Thank you, Dorian. I had no idea you cared so much.”  
His guffaw filled the room. “Lady Cassandra, I begin to wonder if I’ve truly known you at all.” He sobered after a moment. “In all seriousness, we’ve been through quite a lot, milady. I wish the best for all of us.”  
“That seems a very somber thing for you to say. Dorian, are you leaving us?”  
He threw a sheepish glance toward Cassandra. “Perhaps. It’s… I’ve become restless of late.”  
“Does Falon know?”  
“It’s Falon. Of course, she suspects, but I’ve not had the heart to tell either of them what I’m thinking.”  
His first and second favorites elves. No, he’d not be able to tell them, and Cassandra glared at him sharply, suddenly seeing his game. “You want me to tell them? Oh, no. I’ll not be any part of that. Falon will cry!” That last was said in absolute horror.  
His dark eyes plead the case even as he opened his mouth. “She will, Cassandra, and I’ll never be able to go if she does. How easily I’ve fallen for a woman’s wiles.”  
“Watch that. Cullen might have something to say about that sentiment. Why must I tell them, Dorian? You’re a grown man.” At his skeptical grin, she finished, “Well, mostly.”  
Suddenly more serious than she’d ever seen him, Dorian said, “I must go. I… there’s something here that makes this difficult.”  
She felt compassion immediately. Leliana had suggested this once, and Cassandra had laughed at the idea. “Bull?”  
Shock registered on Dorian’s face. “Maker, I really am transparent, aren’t I? All the more reason. I must go.”  
“Where will you go, Dorian? Tevinter? There’s a good likelihood you wouldn’t survive that.”  
“I can’t fight the Qunari now.” Sudden realization broke over her. Of course. This was it. He had been so conflicted of late.  
“I see,” she said allowing him to see her compassion before letting her practical side take over. “When would you be leaving?”  
Again, he dropped his gaze to the floor. “I thought I might leave from here. Tomorrow.”  
“Maker’s breath,” she said tiredly. “All right. I’ll break the news to them, but you will owe me for this.”  
Dorian smiled. “I’ll bring you something splashy from Orlais, hmm?” His humor never seemed to reach his eyes anymore, she noticed. “You’ll tell them I love them both. Make it just romantic enough to bother Curly for me?”  
She shook her head wryly. “One of these days, Cullen is going to snap and break an eluvian over your head.”  
He clapped his hands together. “Well, the tour is over anyway. I’ll let you settle in. Supper is at six sharp. Be there or Anna will hunt you down.”  
She smiled. “It will be too quiet around here without you.”  
He laughed. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll find something to try and kill you to fill the time as it goes idly by.”  
That was sadly a possibility so she didn’t argue, only watched him close her door and leave. Cassandra stared sadly at the fire. It felt more and more like something was coming to an end. She should be grateful that it wasn’t the world, she supposed, but the Inquisition had been so much a part of her life. Probably the most important part.  
*  
The next day she’d seen Dorian off with the dawn, and called all eleven of her fellow seekers to the hall after breakfast. They all milled around the tables and chairs, uncertain of whether they should stand or sit. She indicated that they all should sit.  
“Gentlemen, today we begin training in earnest. Renoy and Clancy will be accompanying me back to Skyhold where we are being issued a fresh stock of weapons.” She looked at the two men. One much older than the other, a man she’d trained with once. “You’ll need a cart and horse from the stables. It’s a big delivery, I believe.”  
“There are things to be done. We must compose our charter. We must choose new leadership, and we must resolve ourselves to our purpose. But all of that is for another day. Today, you will all settle into barracks and arrange the training equipment to Seeker Landover’s satisfaction, and you will keep up with your daily combat drills. I’ll return on the morrow, and we can begin the hard work of rebuilding our order.”  
There was a soft murmur in the room. The youngest of the recruits awkwardly raised a hand then said, “Lady Seeker, why do we need new leadership?”  
Landover, who’d been sitting on the corner of a desk in his trademark silent brood, gave a soft huff and then studied his boots as if they were the most important equipment he would ever be issued. Cassandra glared his way.  
“The Seekers of Truth need to be more than they’ve been. We must do better. That means we need a process, a legitimate process,” she said pointedly, “In order to ensure our leaders have our authority when they give orders. It’s not enough to just be in charge. We must be of one mind.”  
“Milady,” the boy said looking around the group with a troubled expression. “I believe we are of one mind. We follow you, Seeker Pentaghast.”  
Landover stood casually. “All in favor?”  
Every man in the room gave an assent. Well, shit, Cassandra thought. So much for a process.  
*


	3. Chapter Three: Message received

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Cassandra delivers her message and Marcus makes up his mind.

Cassandra arrived at Skyhold by noon the following day, just as the men drilling in the training yard broke for the midday repast. Cullen met her at the gatehouse.  
“How did you find Haven’s Rest?”  
“Is that the name?” she asked with a returned smile. “It exceeds my hopes, but I’m not only here to check-in. I have news as well.”  
“News?” Cullen appeared worried immediately. Cassandra looked around to see who was nearby. Tales traveled fast in Skyhold.  
“Bad news, I’m afraid. May we go to your tower, Cullen? Where is Falon?”  
“She’s in the clinic. Is this about Solas?”  
Cassandra shook her head. “No, it’s not Solas.” They’d already turned for the stone stairway leading to the ramparts and Cullen’s tower. Soldiers past them with acknowledging salutes on the stairs. Once they arrived, he closed the door and turned to Cassandra.  
She didn’t know how to begin, so she just did what she always did. She made the cut clean and quick. “Dorian’s left us. He wanted me to tell the others.”  
Cullen moved closer. “Left us. I can’t say I’m surprised. The last few months have been hard for him.”  
“You knew?”  
Cullen shrugged. “Nothing specific, but I was here the night he returned from Tevinter. It had been quite an ordeal for him, and it… affected him. Falon still can’t go near him without healing him unconsciously. He’s scolded her constantly about it. She can’t seem to stop. It’s instinct.”  
Cassandra gave him a small half-smile at the idea that Falon, who had once been so uncertain of herself, was now one of the most powerful healers in all of Thedas. She was able to instantly identify the ills of the body, but she just kept trying to heal the hurts of the soul as well.  
“I had hoped he would stay and let us help him,” Cullen finished.  
“Perhaps he’ll be back.” There was no thought that Cassandra would reveal the secret he’d confessed to her. She would not betray that trust. “It’s not the only reason I’m here, though. I need to work with the Seekers, but I also need to talk with the Divine. This isn’t the time to leave them for a journey to Orlais.”  
Cullen nodded. “And you don’t want to be seen as openly petitioning the Chantry. El and I had already thought of this particular wrinkle. It would be very easy for this to become wildly overblown as some kind of Inquisition coup of the Chantry.”  
“Exactly,” she agreed with a sharp breath. “Seekers were created to act as a check on the Templars. I’ve yet to hear if Lel… Divine Victoria intends to reform the Order.”  
Cullen made his way to the other side of his desk and opened a drawer, removing a slip of paper which he handed to Cassandra. “Charter believes she intends to reform the Order eventually.” Cassandra scanned the report. It was the barest of facts. Leliana had always been the best at keeping secrets and revealing them.  
“We had Josephine approach her in Val Royeax on her last visit. The Divine will be meeting with us here at Skyhold in the Spring to discuss several matters of alliance and diplomatic necessity. She would also like to include the newly reformed Seekers of Truth in that summit.”  
“So, I have until Spring.”  
He nodded. “You have until Spring,” he sighed as he stood. “I will send for the girls. We should get this over with before it’s noticed Dorian’s gone missing.”  
*  
Cassandra sat by Cullen’s fire until he returned with both his wife and the Inquisitor. They were both elves, but as different as night from day, one dark and one lighter. And Falon was large with late pregnancy.  
The Inquisitor wore her dark curls back in a simple braid all the time now. Cassandra had finally broken down last month as asked her how she did it with one hand, having lost the hand bearing the mark. El had only smiled softly and said to Cassandra. “Oh, Jean loves to play with my hair. He’s become quite the expert.”  
Cassandra had fought off a wave of jealousy at the thought. She’d never be like El, small, dainty and deadly. She had the deadly part certainly, and some men seemed to prefer it. Still, those men would never be the ones to braid a woman’s hair for entertainment. Dammit, that’s what she wanted. She wanted the poetry and the moonlight. She wanted all those things, but she couldn’t have them outside the pages of one of Varric’s smutty novels.  
Each of the women greeted her. Thankfully, Cullen was there to take the task off her shoulders.  
He put a hand out for Falon. “Ladies, Cassandra came with news and a message from Dorian.”  
Eliana simply met Cassandra’s eyes and said softly, “He’s gone, isn’t he?” Cassandra only nodded.  
Falon let her eyes drop to the floor even as Cullen pulled her into his arms.  
“He said to tell you both he loves you,” Cassandra offered as both women seemed caught in a painful moment some depressed artist had committed to the canvas in a dark moment, so still were they both. At the offering from Dorian, Falon sniffed loudly and buried her face in Cullen’s chest to cry. “I told him this would happen,” Cassandra stated sourly.  
“Darling,” Cullen cooed to his wife softly as he stroked her hair. “You can’t fix everything for everyone. Sometimes a man has to solve his own problems.”  
“He’s going to get himself killed,” Falon sobbed.  
Cassandra thought it might be a mistake, but she spoke up again. “He didn’t say where he was going, but he’s not returning to the war. Of that, I am certain.”  
El had donned her Inquisitor's face. With the warrior firmly in place, she didn’t reveal much to anyone who didn't know her, but Cassandra had seen her in battle. She’d seen her in her darkest moments. She’d even seen her imprisoned. The Inquisitor felt the loss keenly.  
Damn you, Dorian Pavus, she thought viciously. Why had he chosen her for this unpleasant chore? Because Varric wasn’t here to do it, she answered her own query. Well, damn him, too, she thought.  
A knock sounded at the door of the tower. Cullen nodded to El who went to answer.  
The Iron Bull ducked his head low to enter. “Seeker,” he boomed. “I heard you were back tonight. Couldn’t stay away from the action, I see.” He turned his craggy face to Cullen. “That problem you had is taken care of, General.” That was when Cassandra noticed the blood spattering his armor at the waist. Bull must have noticed something was amiss in the room as well.  
“What’s wrong with Darling?” He asked Cullen over her head in the most threatening manner, as if the General had better have an explanation.  
Cullen grimaced.”Dorian left this morning.”  
Bull paused, the smile dropping from his face. “He just left? Did he head to Tevinter?”  
Cassandra watched him carefully. Knowing what she knew now, she thought she understood a lot more than she had. Qunari didn’t accept same-sex relationships very well, or any romantic entanglements if it came to that. They were, in fact, likely to reeducate anyone caught having one. Bull would likely be very closed off to the practice other than the fact that he wasn’t the typical Qunari. There was nothing typical about him at all.  
And at just this moment, there was nothing indifferent about him. He was worried.  
Cassandra answered him. “He said he wouldn’t. He just needed some distance, he said.”  
“Distance,” he repeated from the doorway. “Distance from what?”  
Cassandra hated this. She hated being in the middle of these things. “He didn’t say,” she lied then cringed. Bull quirked a brow at her.  
“Nice try, Seeker. I thought you were trained to lie.”  
Cassandra bristled. “I was trained to recognize them, not tell them. Bull, do you know why he left?”  
Everyone turned to him expectantly. She watched his face go stiff, unreadable. “Why would he tell me?”  
“Now who’s lying?” she muttered. The Iron Bull said nothing before slamming the door as he left.  
“What was that about?” Cullen demanded.  
Cassandra glanced at him as he continued to comfort his wife. “Dorian’s reasons are his own.”  
“So you do know something,” Cullen said with complete certainty.  
“He will come back. I’m sure of it.” It was the only assurance she felt equipped to give. “Everything he loves is here.”  
*  
Marcus Landover watched as Cassandra rode into the yard slightly slumped in the saddle and looking like she hadn’t slept the night in a comfortable bed, but instead kept a constant watch on the people around her. He sighed loudly.  
Christopher, the newest young recruit, worked beside him both of them in shirtsleeves rolled up and old boots as they mucked out a stable and followed the direction of Marcus’ gaze. He and Cassandra had decided that the first thing they would institute was a policy of each Seeker caring for his own mount. It would save them money in the long run, but more importantly, it would teach the men and women of the Seekers service. True humble service.  
“The Lady Seeker is back.”  
“I see that,” Marcus responded.  
“I can finish here,” he volunteered. Marcus tore his gaze back to the task at hand.  
“No.” He looked back to see Cassandra leading the mount into the yard. “Why don’t you go take her mount? I’ll finish the stalls. There are only two left.”  
Christopher stabbed his pitchfork into a pile of hay and went quickly to do what he was told. Eager to please. Yet, he was young. That was common in the young. He watched Cassandra dismount and speak to the boy. Tiredly, she gave the horse a quick pat and nodded her head before heading inside.  
She wouldn’t go to sleep though. He knew her far too well for that. Cassandra would never rest while her men worked. She’d probably start setting her office up to her satisfaction or begin pouring over every book in their new collection about Seekers.  
Marcus took some of his frustration out with the work. He felt things for his superior that weren’t exactly against the old rules of the Order but were certainly frowned on. Templar ways and Seeker ways were pretty close to the same from their inception. The trouble was that the more he tried to stifle the urges the harder they fought for his attention.  
He had never seen her look at any man in that way. Not once in the years he’d known her had he known her to encourage a man, though certainly, the Iron Bull had tried a few times. Barracks were the place for gossip, and he knew the Seekers were mainly intimidated by her. He should be. She was a formidable woman, but he just couldn’t bring himself to see her that way. He looked at Cassandra and saw soft curves and sharp edges, and he liked them both. Cassandra Pentaghast was a force in her own right.  
He’d heard the rumors that she was likely to be made Divine and something had changed for him, not for her. Once it was clear she’d not be taking on the Chantry, which was perhaps in his estimation a lost cause, he’d breathed a little easier, laughed a little more freely when she was near. It was as though he’d been given permission by Andraste to think of her as a woman, and he certainly did that constantly.  
He had doubts about the Chantry and its ability to bring real change, but he didn’t doubt one Seeker in particular. She’d been on the right side of every conflict so far, and he and the men would likely follow her again just to be certain in a world no longer sure of anything. If she thought the Chantry could rise from the ashes, then he would wait and watch for the flicker of flame with her.  
If it didn’t come, he would dry her tears. He believed the loss of that dream would hurt her terribly. There was something about her faith that drew him in. He didn’t really believe it, not much, but he wanted to believe. Or perhaps he found himself wanting to believe in her, but either way, he had become a man waiting and watching for some sign that what he truly wanted to be was 'right' somehow.  
It was a selfish thought, he realized. The world had been ending, and he’d been chasing a woman all over Thedas. Except it hadn’t ended yet, and they’d gone on about the business of living. Suddenly, he liked the idea of living. He liked it very much and he wanted to do some of it with the Lady Seeker.  
He’d almost resolved to go after what he wanted more than once, and something always held him back. The fear perhaps that he was being callous or selfish most often stopped him, but then he saw her on days like this, downtrodden, weary. She needed care, and no one volunteered, even her closest friends stepped in to force her to rest.  
They didn’t believe she could be forced to do anything. They had a point, but he wasn’t the Inquisitor. He believed, had shown himself, that he was capable of looking after a woman who wanted no part in being cared for. So far, he’d done that under the guise of their shared mission with the Seekers.  
Would she let him do it as only himself?


	4. Chapter Four: Kirkwall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Cassandra and Marcus are called to Kirkwall to chase a rumor.

“Lady Seeker, a bird arrived from Skyhold with this,” the boy Christopher said shyly handing her a note in a lightweight tube. Cassandra flipped the lid away and pulled out the note. 

Cassandra,  
We have received word from Divine Victoria that an unsanctioned circle tower has formed in Kirkwall that is refusing the guidance of the Chantry. She has written to the College of Magi only to hear from Vivienne that the tower is not theirs. They are sending a mage to investigate.  
The Divine asks that you also seek out the truth of this tower in Kirkwall. With the locals' hatred of mages, she fears it to be little better than a prison. Come to Skyhold on your way. She has sent a missive containing instructions and identification to present on your arrival.  
Sincerely,  
Inquisitor Lavellan, your friend.

Well, then, she thought and stared at the missive in her hand.  
“Christopher, would you find Seeker Landover and ask him to meet with me?” The young man ran to do her bidding.  
Kirkwall would be dangerous for a veteran Seeker, let alone any one of the recruits she’d gathered together. Most had not even the basic abilities of a Seeker of Truth as she had yet to set up the rituals. None of them had been over-eager to be made tranquil, in order to achieve the result. Her studies had proven that there was a good chance the volunteers could remain that way should a spirit of faith find them lacking and refuse to break tranquility.  
Even Marcus wasn’t truly a seeker yet. He remained a Templar still, without the use of lyrium. In fact, there were only a few true seekers among their number. Seeker Renoy, Seeker Carlyle and herself were the only ones to have completed the rites and become true seekers. So far they were all that remained of the order that Lord Seeker Lucius had destroyed.  
The door to her war room opened and Marcus entered. “Lady Seeker, you needed me.”  
“Yes, Marcus, we have been given a task by the Divine.” She handed him the note and allowed him to time to absorb the contents. “This must be accomplished delicately, to say the least.”  
“Yes, Milady,” he said as his darker skin took on a washed-out appearance. “When do we leave?”  
“I will be leaving tomorrow.”  
Marcus shook his head. “No, milady, this job cannot be accomplished alone. You cannot go without a guard to attend you.”  
“I can and I will.”  
“Lady Cassandra, please, listen to me for a moment. You are one of the last Seekers left. You are needed here. I will go.”  
She shook her head. “I don’t doubt your abilities, Marcus, but you don’t have the experience for this. I doubt we can just knock on the door. We will need to sneak around a bit. The Champion may help us. Varric surely will. In fact, we can go on the pretense of visiting the Viscount.” Her plan spilled out as she went. Yes, Cassandra could easily get near the tower, but could she get in?  
Marcus cut in. “Then, we leave Renoy to train the men. He has more experience in training than both of us put together, and he’s been in command before. I will come with you to Kirkwall. There aren’t enough of us to risk, Milady.”  
He wasn’t wrong. Seekers were a precious commodity that could not be thrown away on a whim. She nodded. “All right, ready yourself and see to the men. We will leave for the coast at dawn.” He smiled at her and started to leave. Cassandra called to him to stop.  
“Marcus, just so we are clear. You are my partner on this journey, not my nanny.”  
He smiled again. “Yes, Milady.”  
“Don’t call me milady,” she shouted as he closed the door with a chuckle.  
*  
She knocked on the door once again. “Varric, I know you are here!”  
They had been led to a foyer to wait an hour before, and Cassandra was tired of waiting. “Milady, you must be patient. The Viscount is in a meeting….”  
“The Viscount is having a nap,” she said sourly. The large carved wooden door, however, did open.  
“Not anymore,” the dwarf said as Marcus watched the scene fascinated. “Cassandra, not everything is as pressing as you think it is.”  
In answer, she simply handed him a letter from the Inquisitor. Marcus didn’t know what was going on, but it was clearly important. Varric Tethras read the letter and rubbed the back of his neck with a loud sigh. “Come in, you two. No rest for the wicked.”  
The office was elegantly appointed with a sweeping view of the harbor with its towering stone statues. Comfortable seating dotted the room, yet Varric sat heavily on the most uncomfortable chair, a simple wooden affair with carved scenes across the chair’s back and no cushion. Marcus noticed details like this. He wondered if the chair had sentimental value.  
“In answer to her first question, yes, there is a problem at the new mage tower. No one can get inside. There can’t be many mages in there since this is Kirkwall, but there are a few, and the Templars who’ve rebuilt here are less than friendly.”  
“Are they truly Templars?” Cassandra asked.  
“You mean, do they do that thing that Templars do? Yeah, it seems so. I’ve seen a few in action around the docks, but they have no authority to answer to, that much is clear.”  
“Yes,” Cassandra sighed. “It appears they are acting entirely on their own. That’s dangerous.”  
“You think? As to the second question…. What made El think I would know about a missing artifact?”  
Cassandra toyed with the hem of her coat, something she did when she was prevaricating or nervous. Marcus wondered if this time she was both. She answered, “You are the closest thing we have to a source in Kirkwall, and you were there when Meredithe was defeated. Could there have been an artifact?”  
“No,” he stated firmly. “The lyrium sword she used exploded. What do you know that survives exploded?”  
“Corypheus, for one. Varric, how many things have we encountered that could survive anything we threw at it? Of all people, you should know….”  
Tethras waved the words away. “I know. I know. Sweet Andraste, I never wanted to see or hear of red lyrium again, and now….” He met Cassandra’s gaze. “So Dorian finally took off, huh?”  
At Cassandra’s nod, he asked, “How’s our darling?”  
“She’s adjusting, but she’s unhappy. Dorian is closest to her of all of us. You know, she’s the softer sort, and I worry. She’s …”  
“Too soft to run with the likes of us, Seeker. Yeah, I agree. It’s hard to know what Curly is thinking of keeping her on the front lines with us.”  
Surprising them all, she answered, “He’s thinking that he cannot breathe without her. That is all he knows.”  
Marcus recognized the shock showing on the dwarf’s face as a mirror of the shock that must reside on his own. It was so baldly sentimental. So overtly romantic. She glanced nervously between the two men, then she hardened her jaw and owned her revealing sentiment. “That’s a quote.”  
It was time to change the subject. “This artifact, what is it?”  
“It’s a red lyrium statue, and word has reached the Inquisition that agents of the wolf are seeking it out.”  
Varric shook his head. “Even though he’s learned he might be able to use the Inquisitor for the same purposes, he’s combing the world for a statue? That sounds impractical.”  
Cassandra’s voice grew hard. “I presume he thinks the statue won’t stab him in the gut or defend itself with an army.”  
“I wouldn’t be too sure with red lyrium. There’s not a lot I’ve seen that it can’t do. He still loves her then?”  
Cassandra scoffed at that. Marcus raised a brow at the dwarf. “We’re referring to the elf, Solas? I knew he and the Inquisitor were involved at one point, but you’re saying now that he is the Dread Wolf everyone refers to as the enemy?”  
She looked surprised. “I forget at times that you haven’t been with us as long as most. I should tell you everything later. Remind me.”  
Varric looked up at him. “So you’re one of the new Seekers?”  
“Cassandra found me in Denerim.”  
“He trained with Cullen.”  
“You trained with Curly, huh?”  
Marcus put out a hand, “Marcus Landover.”  
“Were you stationed at the Denerim Chantry?”  
“For a time,” he replied but said nothing of his loss of faith. Cassandra was the only one who knew about it.  
“He’s a giant of a man, Seeker. I think I’ll call him Stilts.”  
“Varric, you can’t just….”  
He interrupted, “Oh, but I can. Viscount, remember?” He slapped his hands on his legs and rose from the chair. “I live here now. It’s a job requirement, but I still have the old place in Kirkwall.  
“Is this the place that contained demons and red lyrium?” The dwarf laughed.  
“No, that was Bartrand’s place. I meant my rooms at the Hanged Man. You’ll love it, Seeker. Hawke is back in town, but she’s not exactly low-profile these days. If you’re going to be sneaking around, you’ll need a little bit of distance from the ruling factions of Kirkwall.”  
“True enough. Thank you, Varric.”  
Cassandra stood looking around at the fine room and then back to her friend. “ Is this what you pictured? After Corypheus, I mean.”  
“I can honestly say this is the last thing I pictured.”  
She nodded. “Sometimes it doesn’t seem real, does it?”  
“You can say that again, Seeker.” He showed them both to the door, and Marcus followed a very subdued Cassandra though the Viscount’s keep and into the streets of High town.


	5. Chapter Five: Ever the gentleman

“What I am about to tell you is not my secret,” Cassandra began as she and Marcus sat at a large board table, far too large for the two of them. She watched plum velvet wine swirl in the goblet she held. She didn’t like to recount this part of their story. For her part, she accepted responsibility for Solas’ betrayal. Her first instinct had been distrust, as it ever seemed to be. She couldn’t understand why she’d abandoned her instincts entirely, except that she’d been so entirely wrong about their inquisitor from the first moment.  
She met Marcus’ somber gaze. “After the breach, our forces were scattered. There was complete disarray, but I found myself in possession of a pair of unclaimed Elven mages,” she laughed at that. “Solas was a wandering apostate with apparent knowledge of the veil, and El was a spy for her clan. They wanted to ascertain the likelihood of peace, and I could hardly blame them for that.”  
She continued in a deliberately moderate tone. She needed to be steady to tell the tale. “Lavellan had fallen from the rift, and if that were not enough, she did so with a mark on her hand, the mark of the rift. Solas believed the mark could close the rifts because… of course, he did. It was his damn orb that put it there.”  
Her voice lost that modulated calm she strove for and found so elusive most of the time, and she paused to take a sip from the goblet. Feeling steadier, she went on. “My only excuse is that at the time I believed him to have the expertise I did not. Lavellan was a likelier suspect than some random apostate. She’d survived the Fade. We believed that suggested some part in events.”  
Marcus finally cleared his throat. “She must have proven herself.”  
Cassandra nodded. “She did. By the time, we sealed the first breach I trusted her completely, and it was justified at every turn.”  
“Solas,” Marcus hesitated. “You admired him.”  
She noticed that he hadn’t asked a question. “I did. Secrets aside, he never made you wonder what he thought. Andraste forgive me, I encouraged him to pursue her. I wanted my friend to enjoy what were likely her last days, and I thought them … a perfect match.”  
Cassandra emptied her glass as the fire popped and crackled. Marcus quietly refilled it.  
“You didn’t know.”  
“I should have known,” she insisted too loudly to be polite. “I’m sorry. It isn’t your fault. He helped us, but that shouldn’t have been enough. We didn’t find out about his involvement until much later. He left as soon as we defeated Corypheus and his forces. We searched for him, but he was nowhere to be found. El was devastated. She told me later that she’d thought she’d have time….” Cassandra swallowed another mouthful of wine.  
“As the Inquisition was besieged in politics, we discovered the plot to attack from the Qunari, another secret. It was then that we discovered who Solas was, and it was as if the Inquisitor lost him all over again as permanently as she then lost her hand.”  
Marcus stared into the fire before Cassandra heard his rumbling response to her story. He wouldn’t judge her. She knew that. No one would ever judge her as thoroughly as she would judge herself.  
“It’s a unique kind of betrayal. I feel for Lady Lavellan.”  
His words surprised her, though she wasn’t sure why. They were kindly said. “You do?”  
With a firm nod, he said, “It’s one thing to be deceived after you begin, but it’s quite another to be deceived from the moment you met. It calls every moment after into question.”  
“You sound like the voice of experience.” They’d both removed their boots and sat in shirtsleeves and pants as soldiers of all kinds did in barracks the world over. When he said nothing, she nudged his leg with her bare foot. “I am sorry.”  
He met her eyes with a half-smile, the kind that seemed sadder than no smile at all. “It was a lifetime ago, Milady.”  
“Sweet Andraste. Don’t call me milady. It’s Cassandra here, Marcus.”  
“All right, Cassandra.”  
“I can’t believe it. Will the Maker’s wonders never cease?”  
He chuckled at that. “We had better hope they don’t. We need every advantage.”  
Cassandra smiled broadly. “That we do. Tomorrow will be a long day. It’s Kirkwall. I anticipate being hip-deep in demons by sunset.”  
He stood and went to grab up his bedroll by the door.  
“What are you doing?” She knew exactly what he was doing, but she would have none of that. “Marcus, I asked them to bring a cot in for me earlier. There’s no need to sleep on the cold stone floor.”  
“I hope,” he said slowly. “You don’t actually believe that the Lady Seeker will be the one to take the cot. Surely, you couldn’t be thinking along those lines.”  
Well, when he put it that way…. She nodded once. “I don’t need that massive bed, Marcus.”  
“You will sleep in the bed, Cassandra,” he said firmly causing Cassandra to snap her protest off short. She pinched her lips together to keep in the sharp words she’d almost let fly. He’d given her an order, but he meant to be kind. Darling kept telling her she needed to get better at accepting kindness.  
Instead of rebellion, she offered him her own nod and said, “Thank you.”  
She turned to go to bed, and she swore she heard him mutter, “Maker’s wonders” beneath his breath.  
*  
Rainy days weren’t uncommon in Kirkwall. Cassandra pulled her cowl closer to her face in the bluster as they waited outside the old tower gate. The Knight-Captain took his sweet time coming out to see the recruits, yet when he finally did she had to tamp down the utter shock at seeing an old friend. Her recruit story wasn’t going to work.  
“Alexander?”  
“Cassandra, what are you doing here?”  
She said nothing for a moment, and the grizzled veteran who stood before her knew just what it meant. She’d known there would be no prevarication with Knight-Captain Alexander Martin.  
“The Divine sent you.”  
Cassandra fought the urge to put her hand to her sword. “She did, Alex. She’s heard that a tower opened in Kirkwall without reporting to the Chantry.” She decided to take another approach. “Since it’s you, Alex, I can tell her it was simply an oversight. It’s good to see you. Seeker Landover, this is Knight-Captain Alex Martin.”  
She watched him relax a bit, calculate how best to handle her. Knight-Captain Martin wasn’t one to make mistakes. Something was wrong in this tower.  
“I am pleased to see you as well,” he waved at the guards to begin lifting the gate. “It’s Knight-Commander now. Step into my office, Lady Seeker. I think I have some good Redcliff bootleg somewhere.”  
She eased into her pleasant smile, the one most people didn’t know she had. “Don’t say that loud enough for Captain Vallen to hear you.” The older man laughed as he led them into the lower level of the Tower, up a short set of steps in the courtyard and into the private offices of the Templars.  
She looked around wondering who had used these bare, utilitarian rooms before this. Hawke had some harrowing stories of the battles she fought within these walls. “Kirkwall seems to be recovering nicely,” she said conversationally.  
Alex pulled three glasses and a bottle from the bottom drawer of his desk and placed them on the desk. “She’s doing all right. The old girl has a lot of life in her. The City of Chains,” he said ruefully. “I often wonder if that’s why so few people leave Kirkwall or seem to end up coming back.” He referred, of course, to Kirkwall’s dark history with the slave trade as much as to the massive chains in the harbor.  
Cassandra tipped her glass his way and said, “To Kirkwall.”  
He returned the gesture. “Divine Victoria has concerns about the tower here, correct?”  
Right to business then, she thought. “She did. That will be ended when I report back. You know how disorganized the whole world is these days. This is merely a formality at this point and I am grateful for that. Traveling seems to have become my whole life these days. It will be nice to get back to my own bed for a change.”  
Cassandra thanked the Maker that Marcus followed her lead in this completely since they hadn’t expected a Templar at the gate who had a history with one of them. “Tired of campaigning, milady?” The Knight-Commander asked just this side of mockingly.  
She let some of her reputation show through just to keep him off balance. “I would argue that I earned a rest, wouldn’t you?”  
“You certainly appear to be vindicated. That much is certain.”  
She didn’t respond with more than a curt nod. “How is Allen, the young lieutenant?”  
Pursing his lips, he shook his head. “Didn’t make it. It was a damnable thing. That kid made it all the way through the blight only to die on guard duty in a Chantry hallway.”  
That was probably the most honest thing that Martin had said since he opened the gate. It also rang with bitterness. He hated mages. He’d never been one to trust them, but now, she sensed a full-blown hatred in his soul for magic and the men and women who practiced it.  
“I’m sorry to hear it,” she said softly. “He was a good man.”  
“He was a kid, but never mind that. What’s it going to take to get the Chantry off our backs, hmm?”  
Cassandra schooled her smile to be open, friendly, and completely without malice of any kind. He needed to buy what she was selling. “Oh, I’ll just take the tour and report back. It will be as painless as possible, then a nice card game with friends, a long nap, and back home again. This time for a while, I hope.”  
He didn’t like it, but he hid it well enough. “Sure. Sure. Lieutenant, will you see the Lady Seeker around the tower? I hope you will forgive me if I don’t accompany you, Cassandra. Duty calls.”  
“Of course, Alex. We’ll be finished and on our way. It really was good to see you again. It’s good that you made it.” Cassandra reached out and took the hand he offered.  
His reply seemed sincere. “You, too, Cassandra. There aren’t too many of us old dogs left in the ranks. She and Marcus followed the younger Templar out into the Tower courtyard.


	6. Chapter Six: Rotting from within

Two guards stood at attention at each of the three entrances within the courtyard. The young lieutenant led them to the Northwest entrance and held the door for Cassandra which irritated her beyond words, but Josephine insisted she wasn’t to “react negatively to good manners” because that wouldn’t be polite. Thank the maker, she wouldn’t be forced to endure a life in the Chantry. The current Divine was far better suited to the post.  
“Lady Seeker,” he said as they approached a door at the end of the hall. This is the barracks of the Templar guards we have so far. It’s a small group still but very dedicated.”  
She nodded an acknowledgment and preceded the officer into the door to the barracks. A few off duty Templars stood at attention as she entered, and Cassandra ordered them at ease in a soft voice. “Are any of you from Kirkwall?”  
One nodded to Cassandra’s way. “I am, milady.”  
“Did you serve under Meredithe?” She asked the question waiting to see their reaction to the disgraced Templar’s name.  
“We were Milady. Shame what happened to her. She was keeping the blood mages at bay.”  
Well, then, thought Cassandra. There it was. The mindless justification of cruelty in the name of safety. It had been that very attitude that had resulted in a mage blowing up a chantry in the first place. She’d met Anders. She’d seen the blood mages running amok. She’d … done what she could.  
In the end, Meredith and Orsino had both been their own kind of monster.  
“Gentlemen, how many mages are in your charge?”  
“We’ve taken charge of ten so far, Lady Seeker.”  
“I would like to see them if you please.”  
The officers in the barracks all exchanged uncertain looks. “Milady, the Commander maintains a strict policy of isolation here in the tower. The mages are allowed contact with no one outside.”  
“You are refusing to allow an official of the Chantry access to the mages we are tasked to care for. Lieutenant, that is a serious position to take.” Cassandra had decided to go big. The Commander wouldn’t tolerate her throwing her weight around, but these children would have no chance against her.  
“No, Lady Seeker, not at all.” And, just like that, he capitulated reluctantly as she’d known he would. The Lieutenant led her up a level to the Mage Quarters. They passed a tranquil on the stairs with a prominent bruise on his cheek and neck, but Cassandra said nothing. She only took stock of what she saw for now.  
The ten mages were apparently kept in one well-guarded barracks if the four Templars on the doors were any indication. She was escorted past them and into a windowless, candlelit room with a weak fire. One of the mages shivered near it.  
“What is wrong with that woman, Lieutenant?”  
“She is the healer. It’s a consequence of her work. She is unhurt.”  
Cassandra was no fool. That shivering was a consequence of healing too frequently, but she kept that to herself. Releasing the rage she felt rising in her would do the woman no good at all. She looked around the room without hiding her concern.  
“Where is the senior mage?”  
“Oh, milady, that’s one of the reforms the Commander has put in place. There is no senior mage.”  
Confused, she met the man’s gaze with her own. “Where does your Commander get his magical advice from in that case? Who advocates for the mages' care?”  
“The Commander does all of that himself, Milady. It’s his thought that the mages of Kirkwall had entirely too much freedom and that is how it all began. He keeps a stricter watch on the tower now.”  
She breathed in deeply. There it was. “I’ve seen enough, lieutenant.” It was a tough job keeping the disdain she felt for the Commander’s way of doing things out of her voice. “Time to make my report to the Divine. Thank you for showing me the tower.”  
Gratified when he really needn’t be, the boy bowed to her. So young, so easily led, she realized. They all were, and she suspected chosen for just that quality. She and Marcus found the gate on their own and went straight to see the only person in Kirkwall who could actually help her.  
*  
“Varric, my men are not your personal army!”  
That shout came from the Captain of the City Guard, Aveline Vallen. Varric only continued to glare at the strikingly tall woman with whom he appeared to have about the same chemistry as he did with herself. Cassandra decided to intervene.  
“Captain,” she said softly. “This is not a conflict with the Chantry. We are asking for assistance. The Chantry has jurisdiction over that tower, and it has been usurped by men who are mistreating the mages kept in those walls unspeakably. My next step is to obtain Chantry troops of my own, but I need more men to take that tower. These Templars do not have the authority of Divine Victoria behind their actions whatever they may have asserted to the contrary, and they are abducting your citizens in her name. The Seekers have yet to reestablish in the numbers we need to police the Templars effectively. Until we have, we need help from local authorities.”  
Varric added, ”Aveline, I’ve known the Seeker for a long time. She’s good for it.”  
The Captain studied them both a moment and finally spoke in waspish agitation, “This will not become a habit.” She turned her glare straight to Casandra. “However, you are right. If the Chantry has not given them charge of the tower, they are an occupying force. I can defend an action against them on those grounds at least.”  
Cassandra nodded at her. “Thank you, Captain. The Seekers are grateful for your help.”  
After the Captain had taken her leave of them, Varric said to Cassandra, “You know this is bound to go sideways on us, right?”  
She rolled her eyes. “Of course, but we have no choice. Leaving the tower Templars to their own devices would be far worse than anything else that could happen.”  
The dwarf threw his most cynical look at her. “You really wanna bet on that?”  
“No, Varric,” she sighed. “Not with our history of luck.”  
“Exactly.”  
Marcus didn’t speak until they were on the cobbled streets of High Town in the iron-gray dusk under a still overcast sky. Construction towers surrounded the Chantry which was still being rebuilt.  
“You seem worried, Lady Seeker.” Cassandra glared his way until he laughed.  
“Cassandra,” he corrected.  
“I don’t like that Alexander Martin was here and involved. It’s not like him, not really.”  
Marcus stopped when Cassandra did, but he looked back the way they’d come before saying, “Trauma and battle can change a man.”  
“They can, but can they change him so much?”  
“I don’t know about his past, but in his present, perhaps…. He’s assigned a man to follow us.”  
She sighed heavily for about the thousandth time today. “Of course, he did. It’s why I arranged for Varric to bring the Captain to us, so it would appear only a friendly meeting of old friends. We must tread carefully inside the Chantry. It is very likely the Commander has friends among the Sisters, those who share his views of mages since the explosion.”  
“How do you intend to talk to the Mother then?” Marcus asked while keeping a sharp eye on the shadows in the street. A lamplighter was slowly making his way through as night approached. She also slid her eyes over the near vacant streets.  
“I’m only here to pay respects and pray, Marcus. What else would a devout woman be doing?”  
*  
The Kirkwall Chantry had always been slightly ornate for Cassandra’s tastes, but it appeared that the new Divine decided she would erect limits as well as buildings. It was far more utilitarian than the old Chantry and much more steeped in Andrastian history. As Cassandra looked up at the Sunburst symbol just inside the great doors, she thought of her friend and hoped she found time to enjoy more than just her mission. The Chantry would likely overwhelm anyone’s life, but Leliana in particular would easily become a slave to it.  
Leliana’s plans for reform didn’t include a resumption of the old ways. The presence of a mage tower in Kirkwall would infuriate her. She was still selling the clerics on the idea of bringing mages into the fold, not as captives but as partners. The rumors out of Orlais suggested that her compromise of towers that ran as Skyhold’s did were gaining traction with the people, just one more way the Inquisition had changed the world.  
Marcus followed close behind, appearing for all the world like a bodyguard, as Cassandra made her way up the aisle to the alcove in front of a towering statue of Andraste where she knelt to begin her chant. As she had expected, her Seeker shield had drawn notice and Mother Danell from hiding as well.  
With the losses taken at the Conclave, Kirkwall’s resident spiritual leader was younger than one would expect. She was also, unknown to many, a halfling. Her mother had come from a farm family in Ferelden, but her father was alienage born. She was also one of Leliana’s new reforms in action.  
“Mother Danell, it is good to see you again.” Cassandra stood from her prayers as the mother approached in long white robes bearing the cowl and the sunburst. Her own guard walked behind her.  
“Lady Pentaghast, I do apologize for interrupting your prayers.” Giving Cassandra a gentle smile, the younger woman nodded to both of them, including Marcus in her acknowledgment. It pleased Cassandra, suggested that the newest of Leliana’s clerics was a worthy woman well-chosen for leadership. She continued, “We’re nearing the dinner hour. Would you and your guard care to join us?”  
She looked toward Marcus and smiled slightly. “We would be honored to do so, Mother Danell.”  
Another broad smile and she said, “Excellent. Follow me. We’re having a wonderful meal this evening. Game has been plentiful since the rifts were closed. Partly your doing, if I’m correct, Cassandra.”  
It was no statement. Mother Danell knew exactly what the Inquisition had done, and she expressed sincere gratitude with bright, vibrant eyes.  
“I only did my duty, Mother Danell.”  
The woman turned, hands cowled in her robes. “You did far more than your duty, child. You saved us all. Now, let us eat, and you can tell me why you’re really here,” she finished with a slightly sly half-smile on her face.


	7. Chapter 7: Dinner with Mother Danell

They were led to a table apart from the other sisters who spooned soup into their mouths around a quiet hum of conversation. The delicious scent of something savory filled the room as Mother Danell greeted each of the women she passed with affectionate teasing. The whole scene was very domestic and relaxed, and so unlike the old days of the Chantry Cassandra felt out of place. But then, she usually did among the sisters.  
Her lot as a warrior and her job as a seeker had set her very much apart through the years. Marcus pulled a chair out for the Mother and then reached to do the same for Cassandra. She’d already been seated though. His annoyed expression made Mother Danell laugh.  
“I fear, young soldier, that you have your work cut out for you if you want the Lady Cassandra to allow coddling. Your legend precedes you, Lady Seeker. I’m quite delighted to get this chance to meet you indeed.”  
“In places, Mother Danell, I fear that legend has been greatly exaggerated.”  
The soup appeared at their elbows as she laughed again. “That is true of most legends, I fear, however it seems to me that some of yours must be true or we would not be sitting here this evening.”  
She begged Marcus silently to intervene. Now, he laughed.  
“I fear, mother, that Lady Cassandra is painfully shy about all her accomplishments.”  
“It would seem so. I imagine you have been sent to Kirkwall to deal with our Templar issue.”  
Cassandra swallowed the food in her mouth barely tasting it. It gave her a moment to think. “So you are aware of Knight-Commander Martin’s commandeering of the tower?”  
“All too aware. Under the Divine’s advisement, we’ve been seeking out mages in Kirkwall. Not to bring into the tower, you understand, but to bring into the Chantry itself. Her perfection believes that if it can work at all here, it can work anywhere in Thedas.” Mother Danell’s hand moved carefully, dipping her soup spoon into her bowl. “I agree with her. Bold action is what is necessary at this time.”  
“Has the Knight-commander inquired after your efforts?”  
The smile on the woman’s face was grim and tight. “He told me to take myself off, although he was less polite about it at the time.”  
Cassandra felt her appetite slip away. This was perhaps worse than she had imagined.  
“Martin has made it clear to me that he wants no guidance from the Chantry on this, or any, matter.”  
“That was my concern, Mother Danell, and it is my place to deal with it. However, I have only the City Guard to call on as of yet.”  
“Nonsense, you will have some of ours as well. My honor guard to be precise. This is at the very heart of what the Chantry is trying to do here in Kirkwall. It must be dealt with quickly.”  
Cassandra couldn’t believe her good fortune. She had expected an argument at the least.  
“I appreciate your assistance.”  
Mother Danell smiled over her spoon. “But, you hadn’t expected it, had you? You had expected to debate the merits of your need until morning. The Chantry is changing, Cassandra. We must all change with it or be left behind.”  
“I can see that,” she answered the charge with awkward wonder in her tone.  
“You don’t recognize me, do you?” There was a knowing air about the woman now. “I was a servant to Justinia, and you, her right hand.” Cassandra opened and closed her mouth like a fish onshore. She hadn’t recognized her at all. Still didn’t.  
“It’s unsurprising that you do not. You were seldom in one place long enough to know any of the servants or lesser sisters, but I saw firsthand your kindness and your courage through those years. I cared deeply for Justinia. She was a woman before her time, but I believe you and Leliana…well, this may be just the time for both of you.”  
“I do not know what to say, Mother Danell.”  
“Hush, there is nothing to say,” and she beamed sweetly at the Seeker. “Eat your soup before it gets cold. Then we will discuss the repossession of the tower.”


	8. Chapter eight: What is this?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So... My computer's been down and the world...*gestures broadly at the world*, but I'm moved and the laptop is working and feeling more myself so the story can continue. Woo. 
> 
> Here we are... love scene.

“Psst…,” someone hissed nearby.  
Cassandra stood on the street looking about for a moment before finally looking down at an exceedingly annoyed dwarf who barked, “Pentaghast?”  
“What?” Cassandra blinked twice and wondered if this dwarf had been drinking. But, from the expression on his face, she determined he was too aggravated to be truly drunk.  
“Cassandra Pentaghast?” He demanded her name as if there was authority behind his actions.  
She decided it wouldn’t hurt to find out what was on this dwarf’s mind. “Yes,” she said finally. “I am she.”  
“I was sent to find you.”  
Cassandra glanced around the Lowtown square one more time and saw nothing out of the ordinary for Lowtown. Looking back, she said, “Well, you’ve found me.”  
With a smirk, the short, red-bearded man handed her a red envelope. She took the thin letter in her hand. Inspecting the wax seal, she recognized the mark immediately. She found the dwarf gone when she looked back at him.  
She opened the missive to read:  
Dear lady,  
I have heard you need assistance in removing vermin from the Kirkwall tower and would like to offer what help I can. When you are ready, simply place this flag in Tower Square, and all doors will open to you.  
Your most humble servant,  
Jenny

So Red Jenny wanted the usurper Templars gone.  
Hearing Marcus’ light step, she met his gaze as he took in the missive. “The Chantry soldiers and City Guard await instructions. Their informant says their numbers are sparse for the moment for there are a few squads in the hills doing Maker knows what.”  
Cassandra turned the letter toward him. “Red Jenny has offered us some assistance.”  
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Kirkwall has a new Jenny.”  
“So it appears,” she said as the crowds on the street seemed to part around them, avoiding the two seekers at all cost. “The Guard is ready?”  
“Aveline says to rendezvous with her force at dawn.”  
Cassandra nodded. Best to finish this business early in the day before the city was up and about. She turned to Marcus. “It’s gotten late. The Hanged Man?”  
Marcus smiled at her then gestured for her to lead the way.  
*  
The fire roared hot as Cassandra began removing her outer gear almost without thought, her mind wandering to tomorrow’s battle. Part of her couldn’t help but speculate on the Templar’s real purpose in that tower. She didn’t deceive herself. Alex had always been completely capable of cruelty. That was the fact that gave her pause.  
What was outside the norm for him was this defiance of the Chantry. In all the years she had known the man, he’d been devout. To turn on the Chantry now….  
She glanced over at the table where Marcus sprawled on a chair pulling a boot off. His dark eyes clamped on hers.  
“Something troubles you?”  
“All my life, I seldom asked why something was the way it was. Now, it’s the only question my mind seems to understand. I blame Eliana.”  
Marcus’ mouth slid up in that way he had, and he looked back toward the fire beyond her. “That doesn’t explain why you left the Seekers. The Inquisitor wasn’t there.”  
“You aren’t supposed to insert logic,” she growled. Her elbows hooked upon the chair arms in an almost childishly petulant way as she hunched over to bury herself in her own thoughts.  
Marcus chuckled as he removed his uniform jacket. “Face it, Cassandra, you’ve always been the trouble maker, and that’s a good thing. It’s necessary.”  
He approached and pulled the second wooden chair around to perch backward with his arms resting on the back. Cassandra could feel his gaze like touch and it awakened something she hadn’t felt since…, well, Regalyan. It got her attention.  
Cassandra met Marcus’ eyes with fire in her own. “You know, I find myself thinking of the past more than I am used to these days. My parents were killed by a man named Markus, you know. The Navarran king. I find myself thinking about them since ….”  
“Your parents?”  
She nodded and looked away. “My mother especially…. I wonder how differently I….”  
Marcus lets out a soft exhale. “Cassandra, there is no good in looking back. You are perfect as you are.”  
As the words hit her awareness, she snapped her gaze back to his. “Perfect seems an exaggeration, don’t you think?” Her tone sounded almost appalled. Her sensibilities were perhaps a little bit appalled, she realized. Perfect? That wasn’t a word she trusted.  
“No, I don’t consider it an exaggeration. You are exactly what you seem; honest, loyal, capable. I joined the Seekers of Truth primarily because I knew the moment I met you that you hid nothing. There is nothing false or fragile about you, and I needed that in my life, Cassandra.”  
“You needed….” She didn’t dare finish that thought. Marcus stood, prowling toward her seat by the fire. The firelight played along a hard jawline and flickered playfully over eyes gleaming with intent and intensity.  
“I needed sanctuary. I needed strength while I was weak. You were perfect.”  
He leaned over her, and it should have felt intimidating, crowded, yet her breathing hitched in her chest because it was neither of those things. His form bent over hers made her feel as if she’d been hit with a chain lightning spell on a field of battle. She was breathless, with excitement rising through her body as if she faced off with an army and not a single man.  
Then, his lips descended, capturing hers, owning hers. Cassandra stopped breathing as she accepted that the world had turned upside down. It reminded her of the moment she realized the breach was real. There was a clear demarcation of the moment: a place where the world would be divided forevermore, into before this kiss and after.  
Marcus lifted his hand to her face and his thumb traced the mark of a scar she’d earned fighting a dragon with another man who’d made her feel this way. Word had reached her that Reg hadn’t survived the rebellion and the breach belatedly. She still had little information about how he died, only how he had lived his final days, fighting as she would have expected.  
She’d let him go.  
There had been so many obstacles, but the deepest trench they’d have had to cross was her fear of mages, something she’d long since gotten past. Fear had always been her worst enemy. Not the fear of death or physical harm. She could face down any enemy but herself with ease.  
No, Cassandra’s fear was locked firmly inside; The fear that she couldn’t be enough, not for any man.  
However, as Marcus easily wrapped an arm beneath her body and lifted her from the chair and into his arms, pressing her against his taut warrior’s frame, she recognized an opportunity in this.  
This kiss didn’t feel like it wasn’t enough. Marcus’s lips teased and taunted as he took what he wanted from her. He had foregone their usual deference. He’d plundered her mouth, and she found herself responding.  
He walked her backward to the massive bed as if she were naught but a child’s toy. “Marcus,” she whispered against his mouth. “What is this? What do you want?”  
“I want you, Milady Seeker. I will always want you, even if you say no tonight. Are you?”  
His voice was forced, harsh, guttural.  
Something in her gut shouted No. She wanted him as well, and she wasn’t afraid this time. She kissed him this time, turning all her bottled up passions on him, forcing him back and then changing positions, flipping him until he tumbled back onto the bed with her on top of his hard body. The fall knocked the breath out of her for a moment, but she inhaled sharply.  
“Not a no,” she said clearly before diving back into the kiss even as his hand cupped the back of her head holding her in place. With every stroke of a tongue or whisper of a touch, Cassandra felt Revelation enter her soul.  
This….  
It was a kind of madness, and yet… she saw clearly so much she’d never understood. This was why selfish Varric chased a selfish, thoughtless dwarf girl. This was why dominant, controlled Cullen looked so rumpled all the time. This was why Eliana was brave enough to fight on, try again. This was everything.  
As the hours of the night passed, Cassandra realized she’d not given up a thing, but rather gained a reason to fight.


	9. Fancy meeting you here.

The Gallows was never exactly quiet, but, at this dark hour, Cassandra heard little traffic resonating off the deserted, cobbled streets around the Tower. A single Templar stood guard beyond the dominating shadow of the single gate that opened into the Tower itself. Only City Guard patrols kept watch this hour, and those were with her.   
Cassandra’s footsteps rang in the chill morning air as she walked solemnly up to the gate protecting the Templars. With the lone patrol’s eyes firmly on her, she climbed up the uneven stone of the wall beside the gate and affixed the red flag to the spiked tip of a sturdy, metal bar. The guard only watched her quizzically, wondering at the sight. She couldn’t blame him. It did seem an odd thing to do, especially when she had no way of predicting the outcome.   
It was at that very moment a small cart loaded down with vegetables made it’s way slowly through the square pulled by a hunched figure in a dark cloak and a young boy complaining the whole way.   
“Aral isn’t going to be happy about this one bit. No, he will not. It’s ridiculous. Can’t accept delivery, Sweet Andraste! Whoever heard such nonsense?”  
Cassandra retreated slowly to her place beside Marcus where he leaned on a column as though only bored and waiting for something to amuse, which wasn’t far off honestly. She was incredibly interested in how this would play out because, of course, these must be the Jennies.  
“You there.” The boy shouted to the guard as though he were a lord speaking to a servant. “The tower kitchens say no new deliveries, but your master ordered these fresh just yesterday for his company.” The boy made a face meant to mock the habits of the rich in a most comical way. Cassandra heard Marcus chuff a laugh beside her. “Fetch me the quartermaster. I have places to be, Ser,” the boy finished with a flourish.  
Cassandra raised an eyebrow. Somehow this boy could make a term of respect like ser sound insulting. The guard reacted by turning red in the face. “Now, you see here, boy! I don’t jump for you. Do your business with the kitchens or be gone.”  
This didn’t seem to appease the young ruffian for he grabbed up a particularly large vegetable-Cassandra couldn’t make it out in the dim light- and he threw the thing for all he was worth at the Templar where it hit with remarkable precision and a loud squelch. Predictably, the angry soldier began to tear through the gate in order to school the boy on his manners.   
At that second, the cloak flew off the hunched man who was clearly a mage, and the guard was frozen where he stood on the wrong side of an open Tower gate. Cassandra glanced up at Marcus. “All doors will open to you.”  
“Indeed,” he replied drawing his blade.   
With a whistle, City Guard began to pour out of buildings and walkways and into the tower. Cassandra followed them in no hurry as they swarmed the door which was being battered open by the Guard. Once the massive doors splintered, she pulled her own sword and incanted the blessing she routinely put on their blades. Blue light surrounded them both.   
“Shall we then?” Marcus asked her with a small smile.   
“Indeed.” Her smirk was the only indication that something had changed between the two of them in the night. It was always this way with them. Battle was an adventure, a dance they performed, and together they performed it better than they would alone.   
The Tower plaza beyond rang with the sounds of battle, yet the sounds were somewhat unexpected. The number of Templars was relatively small, smaller than reported. Instead, she found herself facing off with a couple of elves in rogues gear.   
She and Marcus fought them off quickly and continued toward the Magi quarters. They’d discussed strategy and decided to release the captive mages first in hopes they could aid the attack in some way, although it was unlikely any were in a condition to fight if what she’d seen was any indication.   
The bricked hallway wasn’t narrow, but it was a tight space for fighting. She and Marcus hurried to reach the larger connecting hallway where they’d be less hemmed in. Two Elven assassins appeared from the other direction to engage. As their blades clashed, Cassandra saw the amulet on her opponent’s neck. With a roar, she shoved her blade deep into the elf before her and whispered. “Where is he?”  
The Elf laughed as he died.   
“Andraste guide me to him,” she prayed as she studied both directions of the corridor. Marcus had gutted his opponent and looked her way barely breathing hard but with unasked questions in his eyes.   
“Solas is here. These are his.”  
“The Wolf is here?”  
She merely nodded. “These two came from that way.” She gestured down the left hall with her bloodied blade.   
“Then, there is likely more that way. After you, Milady.”  
Cassandra turned for the chamber, yet despite his words, Marcus beat her to the end of the corridor where a massive doorway stood closed. “Barred,” he confirmed after trying it.   
Cassandra pulled back and drew on the power of her faith resulting in more of that ethereal glow that was her constant companion on the battlefield. With a shout, she kicked the door in and watched it splinter with a satisfied sigh. Behind it was several Templars and a mage. She went for the mage first. He was the biggest threat.   
Blood pooled on the ground at her feet even as Marcus finished off the last Templar in the room. They were both gasping for air by this time. It had been hard-won respite so she bent forward to catch her breath, taking advantage of the moment.   
“Which way?” There were two doors leading out, right and left.  
Marcus eyed them both. “Within. Inner doors are more likely to lead to command, I would imagine.”  
Pushing herself to stand straight, she said, “Very well.” This door opened with only a push and had no enemies behind it; only a desk, chairs, and another door.   
Cassandra felt that tingle in her toes that came with revelation. It was as if she could feel the enemy as she approached. He was behind that door. She kicked this one in just because it made her feel better.   
It was a good choice. There had been a Templar behind it clearly standing watch and she watched with a smile as he flew across the small room and flailed, one arm falling into the fire. Shouting, the burning guard ran toward her and she simply stepped sideways and kicked him further into the hall where Marcus waited to finish him.   
The room was close, heavily scented with the scents of ancient things: A study by the looks of it with tomes lining the walls. An elf stood near the window. As he turned toward her, Cassandra recognized something in the turn of his head, some small gesture that told her she’d seen this man before, fought at his side.   
“Solas the betrayer.”  
His expression never changed, but he inclined his head. “That name assumes that my loyalties were always with yours, Lady Seeker, when in fact it was only our interests that became conjoined, and that only for a time.”  
“My mistake, Dread Wolf. What is your purpose here?”  
He turned fully to face her and picked up one of the tomes. “The circles were great collectors of artifacts both old and new.”  
“I was not aware,” she said in waspish tones. “I will assume you want something to drop the veil then.”  
“Yes,” he admitted. “Quite desperately in fact.”  
She watched him as he walked over to the wall with the book tucked under his arm. Cassandra would bet he already had what he needed. “Why desperately?”  
Moving slowly forward, she held her sword unobtrusively at the ready. He met her gaze, seeming more like the Solas she had known for years than even seconds before. He gave a sad half-smile. “There are some things in this world I am loathed to destroy, Lady Cassandra. Surely you can believe at least that much good of me.”  
“Eliana,” she said. Marcus entered the doorway behind her but held his position, awaiting some sign as she engaged Solas, waiting for her own moment. She would do her best to get him to talk before trying to end this here and now. It wasn’t likely she would live through a confrontation given what the Inquisitor had said of Solas’ powers.   
“Eliana.” He whispered the Inquisitor’s name like a prayer to an ancient god. Were his loyalties more torn than he admitted?  
“You expect me to believe you to be unwilling to kill one elven woman in the face of so much death?”  
Pain scored his expression. “I agree it sounds far-fetched, even to myself. In the face of … changes I’ve endured recently, I find myself unwilling to hurt her further. It was never my intention to be unjust in my dealings with her.”  
“You were the author of the whole,” Cassandra said loudly. “You could never be anything but unjust to her. To have made her love you was a trifling part of it all, wouldn’t you say, Solas? You are the reason her world was dying.”  
He took exception there. “No, not dying, changing.”  
“Changing to make room for those who would destroy us. Not much of a difference no matter what lies you tell yourself.”  
“Perhaps,” he said softly hanging his head. He wore armor much like his old gear but much more fine, more befitting an old god, she imagined as she took in the golden threads and lyrium infused edges of the staff at his back.   
He moved toward a small chalice placed high on the shelf and pulled. He was running, she realized even as the hidden door slid open in the shelf. She tried to pursue, however, nothing would move. She could not speak, could not raise a blade, or twitch an eyebrow. She was helpless and her heart beat faster at the knowledge.   
Solas frowned at her.   
“Whatever else is true, Seeker, I loved her. I…,” he paused. “I love her still. Tell her… I am trying.”  
And then he was gone.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the final installment of Cassandra's love story. I am debating whether Dorian and Bull should have their turn, but I'm a bit worried about what's coming in Tevinter if we're all honest. Ha. Will the story continue? We won't know until I write it. Hope this was entertainment at the very least, my little experiment.

Solas hadn’t killed her; a surprising turn. 

As they licked their wounds later, Cassandra and Marcus had gladly relinquished the tower to the chantry forces within the walls of Kirkwall. She stared now into the fire roiling warmth through their rooms at the Hanged Man. Marcus had gone to order supper, leaving Cassandra with her somber thoughts. 

Mages were even now poring over the archives at the tower to discover what exactly Solas had stolen, and worry clamped her gut hard into a tight ball. Did he have all that he needed to destroy their world? 

Her instincts said he didn’t. He wasn’t certain of his success. 

The door clicked loudly, startling Cassandra and prompting her to stand to her feet. It was Marcus, dusty and bloody from the fight and probably the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. 

“I ordered supper and a bath.” He carried bandages under one arm and a healing potion beneath the other. “Aveline sent word that the mages will be waiting tomorrow to reveal what they know by then. She thanks you for your assistance.”

Cassandra rested a hand on her hip. “Assistance. I had him.”

Marcus put the items on a table nearby. “Cassandra, I was there. He had us. That man is one bloody powerful mage or more than that. I had little effect on his spells.”

“Yes, he is, and he has what he sought.”

“And that is no fault of yours, Lady Seeker.”

Cassandra cocked her head at her second. “We’re alone and you call me Lady?”

Marcus approached her with the same caution he would use on a battlefield. “It seems appropriate at the moment, Lady Seeker. You take too much on yourself, including the mistakes of others. You assume they are all yours to correct.”

She blinked at him as he closed on her. “Are you angry?”

“Not at you,” he answered. This was a side of the man she’d never seen. “The Inquisitor’s dead relationship endangers us all.”

“That’s unfair, Marcus. She… well, honestly, she was as much at the whim of fate as we all were. I was the first to trust an untested apostate, and I handed her over to him after she fell from the fade as easily as …” Cassandra stopped, unable to finish the thought. It seemed so callous to her now, so cold. Strange how she’d changed. 

Marcus growled in frustration at her further acceptance of more blame and turned to stand at the mantle, holding on and watching the fire with all the focus he could muster. Cassandra took a position behind him, staring at his broad back until she could resist no longer, and then softly reached up to touch him. 

“She will be forced to kill him.” The statement fell flatly from her lips. It was a simple fact. “Now, that I know…. Marcus, I can’t think of anything worse in all of this world, and I’ve fought countless demons. The Inquisitor will be forced to kill a man she loved. She has Jean now, but Solas will be an open wound for the rest of her life. I played my part in that.”

Marcus stood statue-still before tilting his head slightly her way, but he didn’t look her full in the face just yet. “What did you mean? Now, that you know?”

Reality dawned on her at that moment. She’d told him she loved him, something they hadn’t discussed at all. She inhaled sharply and turned away from him to hide her alarm. Love and trust were not easy things for her. Why had she voiced that thought so openly? 

“Cassandra?” He prompted her impatiently. 

“I… shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too soon.”

“For which one of us?” This time she heard an almost indulgent smile in his voice. 

“Does it matter?” She shouted at him throwing her hands up and twirling away. She hated feeling like a child, and this infatuation she had with Marcus certainly made her feel that. 

“It isn’t too soon for me,” he said softly. “I love you beyond reason.”

“You do?” She heard the incredulous disbelief in her tone, knew he saw it in her face. This was not something she’d ever experienced before and it seemed unlikely. Grabbing her left hand, he tugged her closer and held her loosely in his arms. 

“You doubt me?”

Ever the one to speak without a thought to consequences, she answered, “Entirely. It is impossible.” She felt his withdrawal from her and quickly hurried to correct herself. “That’s not what I mean… whatever it is you think I just said.”

She hurried on,” I’m not used to the words, Marcus. I don’t know, but I don’t think I ever expected them to be said to me. I am not a romantic heroine.”

He studied her until she looked away from him and back to the fire. “No, you aren’t,” he agreed. “You’re perfect.” Confusion, disbelief, doubt; Cassandra felt the swirl of emotion like a rising storm in her chest. 

She struggled for something to say, but a knock on the door stopped what would have probably been a disastrous reply. Marcus strolled to open the door cautiously. 

“Seekers, we need to talk.” Varric’s wry, ironic smile suggested the conversation would be unpleasant. Behind the dwarf stood his good friend, and sometimes nemesis, Aveline Vallen. 

Meeting Cassandra’s eyes, she insisted, “It’s important.”

Marcus gestured for the two to enter. Varric doesn’t sit or wait for anyone else to do so. “Cassandra, this is a mess.”

“A bigger mess than a hole in the sky?” Because of course, it was. 

“The mages finished their inventory of the vault Solus raided. The book you saw was a Tevinter tome, blood magic.”

She shook her head. “Solus doesn’t use blood magic.” Even as she said the words, she thought about her encounter with him. 

There are some things in this world I am loathed to destroy, Lady Cassandra. Surely you can believe at least that much good of me.

“Eliana.” She said the Inquisitor’s name. “He’s trying to destroy the veil without hurting her.”

Varric nods. “And he just got a whole lot closer to doing it. There’s something in Tevinter that could help him, and the mages think they know where it is.”

“He’s headed to Tevinter?” Cassandra cursed inwardly her inability to end Solus where he stood this day. “We’ll never be able to get there. It’s too volatile. The diplomatic situation with Tevinter isn’t going to allow a pursuit into their territory.”

No one argued her point. “We must inform the Inquisitor.”

Varric waved a hand. “Already sent a message.”

Cassandra stood in shock a few moments, then remembered her newfound manners. “Thank you, Varric. Aveline. You’ve been most helpful throughout all of this.” 

Varric turned his skeptic’s gaze on her, brilliant blue eyes radiating surprise. “You’re welcome, Lady Seeker. It is still the Lady Seeker Cassandra? Not some evil twin bent on taking her place?”

She scoffed at his sarcasm. “I said thank you, Varric.”

“I know,” he replied. “It’s making me nervous.” Cassandra ignored the veiled insult. Marcus didn’t seem inclined to.

“The Lady Seeker thanks you for your help, Viscount, so graciously given. Now, if you don’t mind, we have a journey to prepare for in the morning.” The man and the dwarf faced off in a silent war of wills, which Varric seemed to concede happily. 

“I’ll be seeing you around, Cassandra.” As he moved to the door, she could swear she heard him mumble… interesting. “Meet you downstairs for a drink, Aveline.”

Walking Aveline to the door seemed the polite way to handle the current awkward moment. With a sigh, the battle-worn soldier before her said quietly, “I wish you luck, Lady Seeker. It seems we shall all need our share, but you most of all, I think.”

“Thank you, Guard-Captain.” With an inclination of her head, Cassandra shut the door closing out the sounds of raucous patrons below. 

“Cass?” Marcus seemed more uncertain than she’d ever known him to be. “What is it?”

Without turning around or removing her hand from the door where she’d rested it, she whispered, “I’m afraid. I’m actually terrified. The Fade is terrifying to me."

Marcus laid trembling hands on her shoulders as they stood quietly in the aftermath of these revelations. “The nightmares you have,” he said seeming to confirm a suspicion. 

Cassandra laughed stiffly at the thought. “I have faced down monsters of every kind, fought blight, demons, blood mages. I’ve never been more terrified of anything else. The Fade is a nightmare for me.” She shuddered. “To think it could soon blanket the world….”

“It won’t.” His conviction rang in the room. 

“It could.” Marcus turned her in his arms and clutched her tight to his heart, and she let him hold her. 

“We won’t let it,” he answered with more of that unshakable conviction. His lips rested on the top of her head as she burrowed closer to him, taking comfort where it was offered freely. Whatever else happened, she’d had this. It was the only thought that comforted at all.


End file.
